


oblivious

by jaimelanniser



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, HINTS of theon/sansa tbh, Kinda?, Regency Era AU, pride and prejudice au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 03:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18562825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: a robbaery drabble set in the regency era





	oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> for @kingharryx on tumblr

“There she is.”

Theon stepped up next to him to survey the ballroom, eyes landing on the woman that had captured Robb’s whole attention the moment their eyes had crossed across a crowded room a fortnight ago. Now she was here, elegantly dressed and laughing at something his sister was saying.

Margaery Tyrell had become fast friends with Sansa; then again, she was sure to become fast friends with just about anybody she was introduced to, it seemed.

Robb was enamoured.

“And you say you  _have_  been made her acquaintance?” Theon leaned in to ask him, though Robb knew he was just humouring him. His best friend cared little for matters of the heart when he preferred to find his entertainment varied and as subtle as a boulder being dropped in a pond. “So, go ask her for a dance. They’re gearing up for another one soon.”

“She’s already engaged for the next three,” he muttered in response, casting his eyes away when Miss Tyrell looked over towards him, that sly smile of hers briefly gracing her lips before he tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring. “I believe she’s the most courted woman in the South.”

A laugh came from his friend, who turned to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Stark, why are you blushing like a maiden? You’re a catch, my friend. Go get the girl before it’s too late.”

And the fact of the matter was, Robb had never been one to shy away from interactions with the opposite sex. He had his fair share of suitors himself, and could hold a woman’s interest if he so wished. But there was something about this particular woman that rendered him quite speechless.

Still, Theon was right. “Will you join me, then?” he asked him, not waiting for a response as he made his way around the room, shaking hands here or there, bowing his head as he passed other members of the gentry towards the ladies.

“Mr. Stark,” Margaery Tyrell greeted him when they approached, turning to face them with all the grace of an accomplished lady. “Your sister and I were just speaking of you and how little you seem to dance.”

The opening had been placed upon his hands as easy as anything, and Robb marvelled at the opportunity to smile at her. “You’re quite mistaken, I rather enjoy dancing. As do you, I imagine; I’ve heard there’s a queue for your hand?”

The laughter that left her was tinkling, accompanied by bright eyes and a gentle hand on his elbow. Theon and Sansa had disappeared as far as he was concerned, focused as he was on the woman before him.

“It seems you’ve been asking about me, too.” The sly smile was back.

It should’ve made him blush, but Robb managed to keep his countenance. “Indeed. I’d be honoured if you’d grant me a turn.”

“Nothing would please me more,” Margaery replied, easily shifting her eyes towards their friends. “Mr. Greyjoy, perhaps you could accompany my dear friend Sansa as well. It would be a joyous occasion to dance all together.”

A twinkle in Theon’s eye matched one in Sansa’s as he bowed his head at his sister with a nod, holding out his hand. “Please, Miss Stark, if I may?”

“Certainly,” Sansa replied with a mirroring smile, taking the offered hand and allowing herself to be led away towards the centre of the room where other couples were getting ready for the next dance.

Which meant… “I’m afraid I’ve promised this dance to Mr. Baratheon, Mr. Stark,” Miss Tyrell told him, attention fully focused on him once more. “But I look forward to ours. Do strive to keep yourself entertained in the meanwhile.”

With a curtsy, she was off to stand in front of Renly Baratheon as the violins took up, and Robb was left with a ghost of a smile on his face. As if he wouldn’t keep himself entertained, hanging onto her every movement while he waited. Tempting as it was, to watch the way her skirts flowed behind her, the way her artfully styled hair was ever so slightly altered with the exertion, and her laugh bounced along the walls of the room as she conversed with her companion.

It was only a while later that Robb realised he had done precisely this, stood there with a glass of wine in hand watching Margaery Tyrell dance, and he gathered himself. It wouldn’t do any good to pine from afar – not even if he could’ve sworn she had looked over a few times, only to smile further.

Dances came and dances went, and Robb managed to put her out of his mind somewhat successfully while he danced with Myrcella Baratheon and another with his own sister, counting down the minutes until his turn with the most coveted woman of the ball arrived.

And arrive it did. Margaery sought him out in the crowd. “Mr. Stark, I believe it’s our time,” she announced herself at his side. “I’ve made my enquiries and watched you for the last couple and I have high expectations now. You are quite an adept dancer.”

Robb smiled back at her, guiding her towards the centre of the room, the way her hand felt against his sending goosebumps across his skin. “Well, I’ve had many years to practice. Though  _you_  excel at the art like nobody else I’ve met.”

“Oh, I do love to dance,” she agreed, with the easiness of somebody who was used to being complimented often, taking her position before him, that ever-present smile still on her lips. “But the enjoyment is ever exacerbated with an engaging partner.”

This woman would be the death of him. “Is that what I am?” Robb asked her regardless, curiosity and excitement burning behind his own eyes as they began the dance, stepping closer with their forearms touching on one side, then the other.

“I can’t fathom anyone has any complaints about you.”

“And you? Do you have any complaints about me?”

Margaery’s eyes twinkled again as they fell into step side by side; he couldn’t keep facing forward, but turned his face towards her as she responded, “Perhaps one.”

All the more interested, Robb’s eyebrows rose on his forehead, enjoying the playful nature of her being. “And what would that be, may I ask?”

“You may. But whether or not I choose to answer is another matter entirely,” she replied, a hint of teasing behind her voice.

“Are you always this elusive?”

They parted to move in a roundel, around each other, once and again, pausing their conversation to go with the flow of the dance, but Margaery never stopped smiling. A pleasant countenance that made him never want to look away.

Instead of responding to his question, Margaery said, “Your family is delightful. Your sister Sansa in particular, I’ve never met a girl so charming.”

They spoke about his family, then. It was Sansa’s coming out season, and she had received every attention that an eligible lady was expected to receive on the occasion. She thrived in King’s Landing, and hated the North. Robb spoke of their estate, Winterfell, answering every question Margaery had about it, and its fabled grandeur, before telling him about Highgarden.

“It’s the spring I would miss most if I went North,” she declared passionately. “The flowers, in every shade imaginable. The vibrant greenery everywhere. It’s wonderful. You should come visit sometime, Mr. Stark. I dare say you would find it delightful as well.”

 _She_  was delightful, Robb thought to himself. “If you would have me, I would be hard pressed to decline such a generous offer.”

The music came to a stop as the dance ended, facing each other once more, and Robb bowed his head for her as she curtsied, and they smiled at each other for a moment, unwilling to part.

“Thank you for the honour, Miss Tyrell,” he offered after a moment, not knowing what else to say, very much wishing to continue their conversation but not wanting to seem improper.

Margaery walked closer to him. “And you, sir.” Without taking her eyes off him, she added, “If I were to pick out a flaw of yours, Mr. Stark. It would be that you can be quite oblivious.”

Robb stared at her as she curtsied once more with that smile of hers that seemed to hold the world’s secrets, and walked away.

_Oblivious._

A smile crept onto his face. Perhaps. But cowardly he was not. And Robb Stark had just set his mind on making Margaery Tyrell his wife.


End file.
